


Confession

by malinaldarose (coralysendria)



Category: Earth: Final Conflict
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Community: trope_bingo, Gen, Presumed Dead, Trope Bingo Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:12:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coralysendria/pseuds/malinaldarose
Summary: Sandoval receives a surprise recording.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since Trope Bingo's Round Twelve is an amnesty round, this will fill the Presumed Dead square on...at least half a dozen of my previous cards. Seriously. This just kept coming up.

Ronald Sandoval sat at his desk, considering his options. His latest scheme was teetering on the edge of failure, but he thought he could still pull it off -- as long as he could keep Kincaid and Palmer out of it, anyway. Kincaid should be easy enough; the man was ill. He'd collapsed very spectacularly on national television a day or so ago. Sandoval suspected that the very fact of Kincaid's illness would keep Palmer busy, whether by Kincaid's side or trying to fill in for his absence in ANA business.

He closed his eyes, briefly. He was tired. Tired of the plotting. Tired of being thwarted at every turn. More than tired of the thrice-damned Taelons and the just-as-bad Jaridians. Tired of his own people, even. He vaguely remembered a scene from a television show he had seen when he was a child: the last survivor of the human race sitting alone and contemplating his solitude. Right now, Ronald Sandoval would welcome such a thing. 

_Enough._ He opened his eyes, straightened his tie, and prepared to leave his office, but was halted in the very act of rising when his vid monitor flashed on. The much-loathed face of Major Kincaid filled the screen. 

"Hello, Sandoval," Kincaid said with his trademark irritating smirk. Sandoval found himself wanting to reach out and rip the expression right off the man's face. He forced his fists to unclench.

"Before you get your knickers in a twist," Kincaid continued, "trying to trace this, it's a recording. It's been programmed to be released to you with the digital equivalent of a dead man's switch. Which means that if you're seeing it, I'm dead." On-screen, the Major paused, and his mouth twisted. "Congratulations."

Sandoval's hand shot out and paused the recording. _Dead? Kincaid? Is it possible?_ Plots and calculations spun through his head; he factored the Major's much-anticipated demise into his various projects. _It must be a distraction. But from what?_

The recording should contain some clue. He restarted the playback.

"Before I go, though, there are a few things I need to set straight. You already know that I'm involved in the Resistance and the ANA, so there's no point in talking about that. Our little dance of blackmail versus blackmail, Zo'or versus Da'an --" Here, something like amusement crossed the Major's face. "Zo'or versus everyone, really -- and, of course, you versus me -- is finally over. You've won."

Kincaid looked away, briefly, then back at the screen. The amusement drained from his face. "I hope you don't regret it, Sandoval. I really hope you don't."

"Not likely, Major," Sandoval muttered.

"As I said, I don't want to talk about the Resistance or the ANA. Not really.

"No, what I want to say to you has nothing to do with them at all. It's about.... That is, I'm.... We're...." The Major's voice trailed off; he shifted uncomfortably. "Unbelievable," he murmured, clearly speaking to himself; the microphone on his global barely picked up his voice. "I still can't--" He shook his head and looked away from the screen.

Sandoval, interested in spite of himself, wondered what it was that Kincaid, normally so forthright, was having such trouble saying. He noticed, for the first time, how rough the major looked. His face was lined with pain, and his shoulders hunched slightly, as if fending off a blow. His eyes were shadowed, and didn't appear to be focusing properly, as though the Major was seeing things that were not there. Sandoval's own eyes narrowed. This was more than illness. This was something else.

After a few seconds, the major seemed to pull himself together. He squared his shoulders and faced the screen, taking a visibly deep breath. "I am not Liam Kincaid," he announced. "I borrowed his name because I needed an identity linked to William Boone to get Da'an's attention. My given name _is_ Liam -- I was named after my mother's grandfather. My full name is Liam Beckett...Sandoval."

Here the Major paused, as if giving Sandoval time to come to grips with his revelation. Sandoval, for his part, simply gaped at the screen. What? And then his CVI kicked in, and he remembered a cop's hand shooting toward his face, followed by darkness; waking up naked and freezing in an alley; Siobhann Beckett's disappearance and subsequent dazed reappearance; and the way Kincaid had always acted in her presence, as though she were the most precious person in the world. He had assumed that Kincaid was attracted to her; had even been jealous. He would never have suspected it was filial devotion.

The major closed his eyes briefly, the lines deepening on his face. When he opened them again, he spoke softly. "Have you figured it out yet, Father? You and Siobhan and Ha'gel, all three, are my parents." He raised his hands, suddenly, and light bloomed in his palms, casting sickly shadows on his face. He stared at his hands, and Sandoval saw his pupils contract from the brilliant light of the shaqarava. "Do you understand, Father?"

He closed his fingers over his palms and the lights died. He suddenly looked even sicker than before. "You and Siobhan and Ha'gel," he repeated softly. "I never had a chance, Father. Not one. I was born in Resistance headquarters; and before I was even a day old, I looked like an adult. It was join the Resistance or...or I don't even know what, though I suspect Doors would have just had me killed outright. When you and I first shook hands at Boone's funeral, I was barely two days old. I had such high hopes, Father." He sat back and closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. When he opened his eyes, they glistened with unshed tears. "I knew that Mother was lost to me. The Resistance, on Jonathan Doors' orders, sabotaged Mother's CVI. It was already close to breaking down, and they reprogrammed it so that if she ever remembered the Resistance headquarters or me, it would kill her. That twisted old bastard...."

Sandoval found himself surprised by the anger that suddenly awoke in his breast. He could have loved Siobhan; he'd been on the verge when she died. "Twisted old bastard, indeed," he muttered. "If he weren't already dead...."

"But you, Father. I thought we had a chance. You were so different then. I thought we could at least be friends." Kincaid -- Liam -- leaned forward and stared fiercely into the screen. "Do you know how old I was the first time you tried to kill me, Father? Two days. I was two days old. And yet I thought we _still_ had a chance." He laughed mirthlessly. "And even later, after I'd given up on the idea of friendship, I still donated the blood that saved your life. You know why? Because you were my father.

"What a fool I was.

"Do you know how old I am now, Father? I'm not even three years old, and so many people have tried to kill me. Nearly everyone I know has betrayed me...and I'm tired. I'm tired, Father. But it doesn't matter. Because you know what's finally going to accomplish what you've all tried to do for the last three years? My own body. That's right, Father, my freakish hybrid body is killing me. I thought I was becoming more human. I _wanted_ to be human. But, no. The Kimera genetic material has become toxic to my system; I'm burning up from the inside. I only have a couple of days, maybe only a few more hours, unless I decide to try stasis, like Da'an and the others. But what would be the point of that? I'm the last of the Kimera, and I'm not even entirely that; no matter how long I stay in stasis, there's no one out there to save me. There never was. You may have thought you were alone, Father, but you were never as alone as I have been my entire life."

Liam's voice trailed off, and he sank back in his chair, his eyes closed. For a moment, Sandoval thought the recording had ended, but then Liam's eyes opened. "All I ever wanted was a kind word from you. I knew we couldn't be father and son -- not openly, anyway -- but I wanted to at least be friends. I really needed a friend, Father. Lili was my only true friend -- even Augur betrayed me -- and you took her away from me. You took her, Father." A tear tracked down his face. He looked away, then scrubbed the tears away and looked back. When he spoke again, his tone was more like the cocky young man that Sandoval was used to.

"Sorry, Sandoval. Didn't mean to get all mushy on you. Though it's not like you're going to listen to any of that, anyway -- as soon as you see my face, you'll delete it. But at least I got a chance to say it. And maybe you will hear it. Maybe it will matter to you. So, see you around, Sandoval. Who knows -- maybe my freakish hybrid genetics will pull something out of the bag at the last minute, and maybe you'll listen to this, and maybe it'll make a difference, and maybe someday we'll be sitting in a that little pub near Strandhill, raising a glass to Mother's memory. Stranger things have happened." He grinned at the screen, and for a moment, it was the bright, brash grin of his early acquaintance with Sandoval, but it quickly became a grimace and it became clear that he was in a considerable amount of pain. "End," he grated, and the screen went black.

Sandoval stared at the dark screen, his mind, for once, completely still. And then, suddenly, his CVI went into overdrive and every single horrible thing he had ever done to Liam Kincaid was paraded before his mind's eye in excruciating detail. It didn't last long -- it never did -- but when it ended, he was left shaking, his head throbbing, and with the certainty that the damned thing had finally completely burned out. He swiped at an itch near his ear expecting to find his fingers covered in blood, but they were dry; there was nothing. It was just an itch.

Still. There was plenty of blood on his hands. Quite possibly more blood on his hands than even Zo'or had managed to accumulate, and some of it his own. His son. If he had known, would it have made a difference? He was not so far gone that he didn't think so. But now he'd never know.

He'd never know.

Sandoval straightened his tie, smoothed his hair into place, got up from his desk, and went back to work.


	2. Epilogue

He walked softly through the empty ship on his way to the bridge deck. Others might find the emptiness and silence unnerving, but to him, it was soothing. He was finally nearly rid of the Taelons; once Zo'or went into stasis it would be over.

He was passing near the portal alcove that was used for funerals when he heard a soft voice.

"I brought you home," a woman was saying, "to the stars. Just like you asked." 

Curious -- there were no funerals scheduled -- he stopped. From this angle, he could see into the alcove, but couldn't be seen from within.

A body rested on the platform; even from this angle, Sandoval recognized Liam Kincaid. Looking down at him, her face marked by grief was Renee Palmer. As he watched, she kissed her fingers and pressed them to Kincaid's still lips. "I love you," she said. She turned away to the portal controls, setting the coordinates.

_So it's true,_ Sandoval thought. _He's gone. I wonder if he was telling the truth about our relationship._ It didn't matter any longer, of course, but if so.... Sandoval straightened and waited, giving what belated honor he could to his adversary...to his son.

Palmer reached for the activation button, but at the last moment, her fingers curled into her palm. He could see the anguish on her unguarded face and wondered what she would do if he stepped up beside her to openly express his respect. But something held him motionless, watching the platform and the body resting there.

And so he saw the moment when Kincaid's chest rose from that impossible stillness and his eyes blinked open. Saw the change of expression as he realized where he was, rolled over, and caught Palmer's hand just as it was descending toward the activation control.

"I thought you were dead!" she said. "I was going to portal your body to the stars!"

"It wasn't my time," Liam replied, and as he swung his legs around and sat up, Sandoval quietly walked away. 

No. Not time. Not Kincaid's time, not Palmer's time, not his time. It was the Taelons' time, and he still had a job to do. If any of them survived, maybe they could at least talk. He found that the prospect pleased him.

He walked on.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is slightly AU; I'd only seen the series through once and as quickly as I could binge my way through it, so I didn't realize that by this point in the series ("Epiphany," late in season 4), Liam no longer had shaqarava. Supposedly.
> 
> 2\. This is unbeta'd.


End file.
